Page 3 of The Highlander's Alluring Spy
I staked everything on it, my darling. But I would do it again–for her. For you. She is my daughter, but she does you credit most of all. Not that the Viscount or his friends would agree to that.
The Viscount of Mitread, Lord Peter Kole, was particularly virulent against the idea of Magnolia being brought into the fold. He claimed it was because she was a woman or because she was young or inexperienced, but Daniel knew better.
Kole had three reasons for his obsession with her failure. The first was that Magnolia had rejected his suit only a year previously. The second, and most pressing, was his preoccupation with proving himself to the Crown. Third and final was the man’s enduring hatred of the Scots and fixation on showing personal and national superiority over them.
He was not the only one. James Reid, Earl of Westinford, and Lord Paul Jenkins had also been strong detractors of his daughter. By no coincidence, they were also two of the suitors Magnolia had turned away.
Jenkins would do anything to prove himself to the Crown. He longs to get away from his Welsh heritage and establish himself as English as any of us. I know he holds anger towards our daughter even now.
And as for Reid, his pride would lead him to do…anything. I shudder to think of the revenge he’s plotting in his small mind, even if he never acts upon it.
The arguing had been bitter, but Daniel and the Marquess had won out. Now he paced nervously before the doors of the meeting room, the three privileged men already inside waiting for him.
Or, more accurately, waiting for Magnolia. He glanced anxiously at his pocket watch. She was not yet late, but it would reflect poorly on him if his daughter was delayed after such an argument. More importantly, it would reflect poorly onher.
He stared out along the hallway as if he could see her. He silently urged her to hurry to avoid the scorn of lesser men on their house, and, more critically, on her own admirable self.
* * *
Timothy hadn’t even the time to dismount and open the door for her when Magnolia sprinted out of the carriage, her braided hair bouncing against her back. She hurried to the court steps, waving behind her in a gesture of thanks.
She was too conscious that she was still in her day-dress rather than court clothes, but there had been no time to change between Lizzy’s house and now. She was thankful that she’d chosen a well-bodiced gown for her trip, so she would not look out of place.
Well, no more out of place than usual, anyway. Dress restrictions bothered her, but she also was more than aware of their importance at court. As a woman, she needed to prove herself more than anyone. Both for her own sake and for her beloved father.
She hurried up the marble steps, exchanging a friendly smile with the young doorman who winked at her on the way past. Her flat shoes clicked on the tiled floor, and her skirt hindered her from moving faster. She rather reminded herself of a horse galloping to a goal but held back by its bridle.
Her father waited at the end of the third hallway, and the relief that echoed from his face as he saw her approach was more than palpable.
“I’m sorry that I am late, Father,” she told him, with a little polite curtsy. Lord Winterbourne did not expect such formality in his address with his daughter. Still, Magnolia wanted to do everything correctly when she knew that today she would prove herself to the Crown. “Forgive me.”
“Worry not, Daughter,” her father said with that gentle, proud smile she loved so much. “Your arrival is perfectly timely. Come, the gentlemen await.”
She followed, keeping her expression clear and her chin high even as the nerves threatened to overwhelm her. She held herself steady even as she noticed the men in the room and could barely believe that she was in their presence in a closed meeting such as this.
Duke Barton and Marquess Conley were the leaders of the Order. The former was in his sixties, with salt-and-pepper hair and a severe, square jaw. The latter was a round, cheerful man who had blonde curls almost as light as his official white wig. Despite looking like polar opposites, both men were equally kind–and equally merciless when it came time to protect the Crown.
I do like these men, but they do make me exceedingly nervous. What could such powerful men possibly want with the likes of me? What can I do for them? Will I do my father’s name justice?
Her father’s counterpart in the order, the Viscount of Mitread, was the only other man in the room. He was tall and slender with brown hair and spectacles, younger than the other men but cunning in a way that had shot him through the Order’s ranks.
Magnolia was intimidated by all of them, even knowing of their friendliness and courtesy. Still, she did not let it show at all as her father guided her to the table.
The Duke, the Marquess, and the Viscount all stood as Magnolia’s father held out her chair.
“Thank you, Father,” she said politely, sitting. When she did, the four men sat too. It was a synchronized movement, showing they were all used to acting as one, and it made Magnolia even more nervous.
Can I fit here? I am so different already, and they are already so used to each other.
She didn’t have much time to ponder, though, as the Duke started his briefing immediately.
“There have been rumors,” the Duke said in his gravelly voice. “Rumors that the Scots are gathering and preparing for an ambush.”
Magnolia started suddenly, shock filling her at the very idea. “But I thought we were in a time of peace?”
All eyes turned to her, and Lord Kole spoke in a gentle tone. There was warmth in it, and she was pleased he did not hold her rejection against her. “My dear Lady, I know you have not been educated in warfare, but I do assure you that the Duke knows his business.”
There was a pause. Magnolia felt somewhat condescended to, despite his kindness, but she did not speak up. It would not do to let her emotions cloud her judgment now.
